The 59th Annual Hunger Games
by Shon.A9
Summary: Follow three tributes as they attempt to survive the 59th Hunger Games
1. Chapter 1 - Evangeline

Reaping day is my least favorite day of the year. Go to any other district and everyone else might be saying the same thing. But not here in two - today is the most celebrated day of the year for us. I've never really cared too much for reaping day, personally. Having my father home from district four is always a treat, and I can't say no to a day off school, but otherwise I don't see anything so great about the day. But today is different - it isn't like every other reaping day where I'll stand waiting for the names to be called or taking bets on volunteers with the other seventeen year olds. No, today I'll be volunteering for the games.

Just a few weeks ago my trainers pulled me aside and excitedly told me that I'd been chosen this year to volunteer. I'm not completely sure how this process of choosing works. I just know that all of our teachers and trainers observe and discuss for months deciding who should volunteer. Of course, anyone can choose to volunteer themselves, but we know that we're supposed to listen to the trainers decisions and follow them.

The only issue is that I don't want to compete in the games. I've never dreamed of volunteering, of fighting and winning the games. I know there are so many others that would eagerly take my place, but giving it to them wouldn't feel right. I suppose I technically could have said no, or could just not volunteer, but what would that make me? A coward? A failure? Wouldn't I let everyone down? Of course, no one knows I was chosen other than me and my trainers, but I'm sure it would get out somehow if I don't volunteer. It always does. And no one would look at me the same way knowing I'd been too weak to volunteer. But something doesn't feel right. I'm not the strongest or the most skilled fighter, so why was I chosen? I know an honor's been bestowed upon me, but it feels more like a death sentence.

That day I walk with my parents and younger brother to the reaping. My father carries my brother on his shoulders as he waves around a flag of Panem. Peacekeepers often hand them out to children on reaping day. I look around my village as we walk. My neighbors are exiting their houses, waving to us as they prepare to leave for the reaping. I can't keep the thought out of my mind that none of them know that I'll be the one volunteering today. That I'll be in the arena, trying to give our district another victor.

Upon arriving at the town square, my family and I split up so that I can be accounted for and enter the area for the other seventeen year olds. There's a big rush of excitement as everyone enters and chatters among themselves. I look to see if I can spot any of my classmates, but I can't get the thought that I'll sweat through my white dress up on stage out of my head, and I'm too distracted to properly search for anyone. After a long wait we're quieted down, and I know the reaping is about to begin. Our escort, Ona Acker, takes the stage dramatically and sits down next to Mayor Rand. She uses a small mirror to carefully comb through her long gold eyelashes, and I can't help but question how she'll be able to read the names through them. Our mayor steps up, wishing us good morning and happy Hunger Games. He tells the story of the rebellion and his pride to be from such a loyal district as two. He also acknowledges the many victors lining the stage, expressing joy to have so many winners. He then hands the microphone over to Ona to choose the names.

"Happy Hunger games!" she booms to us, and someone gives a little cheer.

"I see someone's excited! Now, let's find out who our lucky little tributes will be! I say … ladies first this year!" She trotts over to the gigantic glass bowl containing our names and plucks out a paper. I feel my heart stop in my chest. Do I really want to do this?

But as she shouts the name and a small thirteen year old girl looks up, I stick my hand in the air.  
"I volunteer!" All eyes are on me as I walk up to the stage.

Ona sticks the microphone in my face, saying, "what's your name then?"

"Evangeline Oakley," I shout, and a cheer erupts for me. Ona goes over to the boys bowl and picks out a name, but a volunteer rushes up before she can even finish speaking. He bounds up the stage and introduces himself as Remus Fawcett. The crowds cheering roars in my ears as Ona announces us as the district two tributes, and I can't help but smile. I was chosen for this role, and I will make my district proud.

After the reaping ends I'm guided into a room in the Justice Building. I've visited the building on select occasions, picking up clean uniforms for my father, but I've never seen this room before. There's a low table where fruit and cookies are laid out for me, some chairs and sofas, and a wide television screening the district one reaping. Soon one of my trainers, Emily, rushes into the room. She curtly shakes my hand and congratulates me on successfully volunteering, something I'm assuming is routine for trainers to do. She has a long conversation with me, reminding me of my strengths and preparing me with advice. Finally, she wishes me good luck in the games before trading places with my family.

"We're so proud of you, honey!" My father says.

"So proud!" My mother echoes as she hugs me. "We're counting on a win from you, sweetie."

"Evie's gonna win the games! Evie's gonna win the games!" My brother shouts as he runs in circles around the room.

My father sits me down to give me advice as my mother adjusts my blonde curls and slides a set of silver earrings softly into my earlobes. "I used to wear these earrings to reapings when I was younger," she tells me, "now they'll give you good luck in your games!"

I hug them each goodbye tightly. They seem so sure that I'll be back soon, but I'm not sure I'll ever see them again.

I meander around the room, half watching the reaping as I wait to escorted from the building.

I notice that both the tributes from one are volunteers as well, but I don't catch their names. I suppose that they'll be my allies in the games.

I'm not entirely sure what to do in this extra time, as I surely can't relax, and I'm grateful when the peacekeepers come to gather me. It's a short and silent ride to the station, where I board the train that will take me to the capitol, and away from my home - possibly forever.


	2. Chapter 2 - Georgina

I've always loved having traditions. There's something about doing the same thing every year that makes things seem a little more stable. Makes life seem a little more like it's in your control, even when you know it isn't. That's how I survive reaping day - by knowing that my little traditions will give me something I can hold on to, something to look forward to so that I don't rip all my hair out and scratch my skin raw in anticipation of the reaping. Rider and I started meeting up on the morning of the reaping five years ago. I was taking a walk when I couldn't sleep one reaping day morning when I saw a small face peering at me from behind a house. When I called her out she sheepishly admitted that she'd been following me, curious of what I'd been doing. I let her walk with me, and we've been close friends since then.

That's why I'm sliding my window open quietly this morning, trying not to wake Halina and Ida, who lay next to me in bed. I wrap myself in a light jacket - even though the weather outside is warm there's a chill I can't seem to escape. I tuck two thermoses of hot milk and honey in my bag, along with some paper scraps and charcoal before heading out.

Rider is already at the field when I arrive. We chose this as our meeting spot when we learned that by laying flat on the ground's slight incline we can perfectly see the sunrise on reaping day. Rider's sitting up in the grass, picking at some brown stains on the bottom of her pants and chewing on a thick wad of her favorite "mystery plant". We're not really sure what it is, only that it grows sparingly in the far out fields we aren't allowed on, and that chewing it makes us lightheaded and giddy. I can only handle in every once in a while, but Rider chews in like her life depends on, which it very while might - or at least her sanity does. But I'm worried about her using it on reaping day.

I creep over silently and whack her on the back of the head, causing the wad to fly out her mouth. "Hey!" She yells. "I just picked that!"

"Really, on reaping day? One look from a peacekeeper and there'd be a bullet in your chest! I thought even your tiny brain was smarter than that."

"Oh please, no one can tell. And now you've gone and wasted it all!"

I shake my head and chuckle at her. "Whatever, I've got something better anyways." I toss her one of the milk bottles and her eyes widen in excitement.

"Is this fresh?"

"Just milked it this morning," I tell her with a smile.

"Georgie, you are the greatest girl in the world!" She exclaims, before guzzling down half the bottle.

"Slow down or it'll come right back up you idiot," I laugh. I pull my drawing supplies out from my bag. I start on another sketch of Rider, my favorite subject.

"I can't believe you beat me here this morning, sleepy head," I say to her.

She puts down the milk bottle and her smile fades. "Dad came home real early today. I just couldn't really fall back asleep with all the yelling."

I move closer and stroke her hair. Rider's dad has had a problem with drinking too much ever since her mom died. Wasting all his money and spending every moment he isn't working down at the market instead buying liquor. I've learned that there isn't really anything I can do in these situations but be there for her.

"Hey, it's okay, I'm okay," she says, and tips her milk bottle to clink with mine. "Here's to another year of surviving this place." I drink to that, and face forward to see the sun rising.

Back at home the twins are setting the table for lunch before the reaping. Having a family meal on reaping day is another tradition. It means eating pork tail and beans for a week before, but we always save our best food to have a meal where everyone gets enough to eat. "Good, you're back!" Halina yells, "can you stir the soup while I try and find another bowl?"

"Sure thing," I reply. Ida is sitting quietly, trying to clean some stains off a cracked drinking glass. "You okay?" I ask, giving her shoulder a squeeze. She looks up at me with wide eyes.

"I don't know, I just have a bad feeling." This will only be the twins second year in the reaping, and I remember being just as afraid. "Everyone has a bad feeling on reaping day, but we'll get through it," I tell her.

"Time to eat!" Halina calls. Cole coming rushing into the room, still wearing his pajamas.

"Cole, it's almost one o'clock, go get dressed!" Ida yells at him. Cole just sticks his little tongue out at her before sliding into his seat at the table. My parents also come in, a baby Cora at my mother's hip.

"Time to eat!" Cole calls, banging his wooden spoon on the table.

"Prayer first," my mother replies, ruffling his hair.

We've always done prayer before meals in our home. Apparently my parents parents did it before the war, and we've carried on the tradition. It's not really something I understand, or something that other people do, but my parents have found something that brings them hope, and that's more than I can say for most people around here.

We all close our eyes and join hands. "To whatever higher power may be listening," my father starts, "we thank you for our home, our food, our five beautiful children, and we ask you to please keep them safe today at the reaping." I open my eyes and peek at Ida and Halina. I begged them not to take out tessera, but they refused. I know we wouldn't survive without it, but my heart is torn. Their names will be in the reaping ball sixteen times each. Mine will be in forty. I hope my parents prayers are enough.

At the reaping that day I squeeze Halina and Ida tightly before letting them join the other thirteen year olds, while I go to stand with the sixteen year olds. I spend the majority of the speeches gazing off at Rider fidgeting in the roped off area for the fifteen year olds, or at the twins, wearing matching blue blouses that hang off their thin frames.

Our escort, Quintillius Lacer, seems bored and miserable on stage. If only he knew what it was like to live like us. "Hello hello," he says, in an unenthusiastic voice, "happy Hunger Games, district ten. Now let's not waste our breath and get on with the choosing. We'll do … boy's first." He shifts around for a moment before choosing a name, "looks like it's Beau Irwin. Congratulations Beau, get up here." A shocked looking fifteen year old boy walks slowly up the stage. Something about him looks familiar, but I can't quite place it.

"Time for the girls now." I take a deep breath and say my own small prayer. Quintillius is taking his time gliding his hand around the names before choosing one.

"Alright, the name is Georgina Draper."

He said my name. Quintillius just said my name. Could this really be? Maybe it was a mistake. But no, no one stops me as I walk with wobbly legs up to the stage. I was reaped for the Hunger Games.

My family comes to see me first. It's a blur of tears and hugs and screams and I'm not sure any of us really accept what is happening. The peacekeepers have to tear my sisters out of my arms when it's time for them to leave, and I crumple into a mess of tears on the ground, knowing that I will never see them again.

There's another minute before Rider bursts in. "We have to get out of here Georgie, now. I have some things with me, we can go out the window, run to district four. Or we'll go to the woods. Live off the land. But we have to get out now."

"Slow down, do you even hear yourself? If we try to leave we're both as good as dead, but at least you'll survive if we stay put."

"Now without you I won't! I don't have anything without you Georgie! I can't live without you," she says, tears sliding down her cheeks.

"You have to Rider, you have to! You have to take care of my siblings, and help your dad get better. You have to tease Cole for me, and teach Cora how to milk a cow. You'll get it out of here one day. But it won't be with me."

"It will be with you, it has to. Because you have to fight and kill and try to win. Do whatever you have to to try and get back to us."

She gives me a deep hug and a soft kiss on the cheek before the peacekeepers tell her that my time is up. It felt like so much less than an hour with my visitors, but I know that each of their faces will be on my mind the whole way to the capitol.


	3. Chapter 3 - Atlas

Reaping day started on a bad note. As sullen as the main event of the day is, I've always liked reaping day in spite of myself. My mother gets the day off work, I get a day off school, and we both get some time to just relax. It seems like there's never any time for that during the rest of the year. Our family motto has always been, "keep your head down and work hard," and it's gotten us this far. It might not have saved my father from his sickness, but it did keep us going when he died. Any sadness, and anger, and loneliness can always be put into work. We learned that the hard way when just a few years after my father's death my older sister was whisked away from us to work in the capitol. Since then it's just been me and my mother. As long as I focus on my school work and my mother focuses on her job, things stay stable, and one day a year we get to let go and relax. All we have to worry about today is me being reaped, and with my name being only 5 out of hundreds of thousands, I can't say it's my biggest concern. Maybe I should worry more, but I've always believed that as long as I act as I should then I'll get what I deserve in return.

But reaping day this year was different, because as soon as I woke up my mother called me to look at the leaves.

She's been reading tea leaves for as long as I can remember. Supposedly it's been passed down from my mother's family for generations, but there's no way of really know what our family was like before the rebellion. Either way, my mother's been reading our tea leaves every morning, deciphering from their patterns what our futures hold. I used to be quite skeptical of the whole thing, but I have to say, the leaves are almost never wrong. Our neighbors have even started coming to my mother sometimes to see what the leaves say about them. We get a lot of people coming around this time of year, concerned parents hoping to see if their children will survive this year's reaping. So far, it's been good news for everyone that's come to see us this year.

That's why it's even more concerning when my mother calls me down early that morning to see her leaves. I sit down next to her at the table and take a look over at her cup. I can't say I'm an expert at reading them like her, but I certainly know the difference between what's good and bad. A large cross shapes lines the middle of the cup, a sign of great trouble ahead. My mother points a dark, shaking finger to some leaves in tear drop shapes lying toward the side of the cup. "This," she explains, "is a symbol meaning great sadness." Of course seeing this on reaping day is concerning, but my mother tells me not to worry, that perhaps the sadness and hardship refer to a different point in the future, that maybe the reaping has nothing to do with it at all.

We eat a quiet breakfast together while my mother works on her weaving. Then we both put on our best clothing, myself in a white collared shirt and black pants, and my mother in a long blue dress and dark braid. She ties a woven bracelet of blue and orange thread, meant to bring good luck, around my wrist. This lets me know that despite what she said about the leaves, she's still nervous for today. I am too, but I know that I have to accept whatever future lays in front of me.

I separate from my mother when we arrive at the reaping, and spot with my friend Taro in the roped off section for sixteen year olds. I sneak my way to him through the crowd as the mayor begins his yearly speech. I usually try and listen, but this year I'm just too distracted by what we saw in the leaves that I whisper to Taro instead and tell him what happened. His eyes widen in concern. He and his parents came for a reading just a few days ago, and they take the leaves just as seriously as my mother does. "That's bad news, but hey, we're all here for you. Don't stress too much," he says to me.

"How can I not? I mean, I'm trying my best to stay calm, but it's reaping day. This could possibly be the worst day of the year to have such a dismal reading."

"But it was your mom's reading, right? So she's going to have a hard time, but not necessarily you will too."

"I don't want my mother to suffer either, but … we'll see. You might be right."

This year we have a new escort. She introduces herself as Marcelle Hyde, and expresses how excited she is to be an escort here in district five. I actually quite liked our old escort. There was something nice in the way that he could always bring some joy, or at least a good laugh to a day that has so many in distress. He's retired in the capitol now, so I hope that I like our new escort as much.

"Now! Who shall we choose first? Well, I suppose since this is my first year, and I'm a woman, and well, I suppose that makes me a bit biased toward the girls, we'll let the ladies go first!" Marcelle hops over to the glass ball containing the girls names and pulls one out. "Nicola Zant!" A moment of silence passes, and no one walks up. "Nicola Zant?" Marcelle tries again. "Is there a Nicola Zant out there?" A small girl from the twelve year old area takes a small step out onto the path that leads to the stage. "Well come Nicola, no need to be shy!" A peacekeepers grabs her arm and gives her a shove toward the stage. She hobbles up sadly and Marcelle gives her a little pat on the back. "Alright then, boys turn!" She says, less confident this time. It always seems to bring an air of sadness when a twelve year old is reaped.

I take a deep breath in. I hope the leaves were wrong.

But they weren't. Because Marcelle calls, "Atlas Kersey," and now I'm the one walking up the stage.

My mother is the first that comes to visit. For a long time all she does is hold me in her arms and whisper that I'm her baby boy, that she can't lose her baby boy. Then she gets serious. She reminds of all the herbs I've gone to collect for her, all the ones I know are safe to eat. She says some of her blessings and chants over me - things in a different language I don't understand, but I know are meant to keep me safe. She tells me that she loves me more than anything in life, and then she leaves.

Many of my classmates and even one of my teachers come in, leaving me with small gifts and wishes of good luck. Lastly Taro and his parents come to see me. With tears on their faces they wish me good luck and each give me long hugs.

"Take care of my mother," I tell Taro, "make sure she keeps going when I'm gone." The thought of my mother alone in the house tears my heart in two. How much loss can one woman handle? She's done everything for me, and I always thought I'd be there to provide for her in her old age. But seeing me die in the games will age her twice over, and she may need help sooner than I think.

"You have to have tea with her every morning, and make sure she sleeps at night. Don't let her overwork herself."

"Of course," he says, "of course we'll take care of her."

And then it's time for me to be whisked on the train to the capitol. I don't dare shed a tear. The cameras will still be on us as we board, and if I'm going to be strong for the games, I have to start now.


	4. Chapter 4 - Evangeline

I give a last smile toward the camera as we board the train. Ona ushers us to a large table where our mentors for this year are already seated. She makes the introductions between the four of us. Our mentors this year are Brutus, who won the games a few years ago, and Amelia, winner of the 54th games. Since our district has many victors, each year the most recent two are chosen as our trainers. I'm actually already familiar with Brutus, as he's come to my class a few times to visit, speak with us, and assist with training sessions - as victors sometimes do. I've never met Amelia, but I remember watching her win the games. She became notorious for killing off many of her fellow tributes as they slept, and won the games through her stealth and strength combined.

They both greet us with enthusiasm and we begin talking as avoxes bring out platters of food. I can't say I'm particularly hungry. I only ate breakfast a few hours ago, and there are still some knots of confusion in my stomach. I pick at my bread and some vegetables and try to focus on the conversation instead.

"I hope there's water -" Remus says, guzzling down a plate of meat like he's never eaten before. "I'm a great swimmer."

"Ooh water! We haven't seen that in an arena for years! That would be exciting!" Says Ona.

"How about you," Remus says, nudging my arm.

"I'm an alright swimmer," I shrug, "but I'm better on my feet with a weapon."

"You better be!" Remus yells, some meat pieces flying out of his mouth, "otherwise we won't get everyone else!"

"Right," I reply, mildly disgusted with his style of eating. Brutus must notice my aversion, because he looks over to me and says, "It's good to bulk up before the games."

I hadn't thought of that. Now that I think of it, at least a couple tributes die each year from of talking anymore, I dive into my plate.

After the meal we're guided to another area of the train where some couches and chairs are set out before a television. A table is lined with desserts and jugs of a steaming black liquid. "Have you ever had coffee dearies?" Ona asks Remus and me.

"I've had it before - that stuff is awful. I'd rather drink my own piss," Remus says.

"Well that's because you've probably never had it the right way!" says Ona.

I see her carefully mix lumps of sugar and cream into the cup with the coffee, and she hands one to Remus and me. I take a cautious sip and I'm greeted by a delightful taste. I've never tried coffee before, but every time I've seen it's been a thin dark liquid, nothing like the thick golden liquid I'm drinking now. In fact, we never get much of anything sweet. Sugar is grown in eleven, as far I know. We get some of their sugar, but mainly we eat grain based items or meat. I eagerly sip the sweet coffee as we settle down to watch the reapings.

I've already seen the district one reaping airing earlier today, but I won't ignore an opportunity to evaluate the competition again. This time I watch more intently as two seventeen year old volunteers step up. I'm surprised by how small the boy is. I can't imagine that he's very strong with his thin frame. I do get their names this time I watch. Valor and Esma.

Next the television shows our reaping. I'm glad that the cameras don't seem to catch my brief hesitation in volunteering. Remus and I do however, look quite strong and proud up on the stage. Caesar even comments on what tough competition we'll be.

I take note of the district four tributes as well, as I assume we'll be allies. This year only the boy is a volunteer, which happens every once in a while in four. However, the girl that's reaped is tall and plump, so she may be able to hold her own.

Most everyone else looks like an average tribute. There are a few very young ones, and Brutus makes a comment about how we'll be able to get rid of them easily. There are a couple of more strong looking tributes as well - specifically the girl from three and the boy from five, but no one that really poses a threat.

"Looks like we've got the strongest and best tributes in the whole games!" Brutus shouts after the viewing.

"But that doesn't mean that you should neglect your training," Amelia says. "Now, tell us a bit about your skills, and we'll take it from there."

"Well, I'm pretty good at everything. That's why I was picked to volunteer for the games," says Remus. Brutus gives him a smile, but Amelia has a look of concern on her face.

"Actually, perhaps now would be a good time to separate. After all, you two are competitors. From now until the games, I'll head Evangeline's training while Brutus will go with you, Remus."

"Fine with me," he says, and begins an eager conversation with Brutus. Amelia guides me to a new car where we sit down.

"Now that those two are gone we can really get to work. Why don't you tell about your abilities?"

"I'm good with a few different weapons, but I'm best with knives or a bow and arrow."

"What else?" She asks. I don't want to embarrass myself in front of Amelia, but I can't think of what other skills would matter much in the games.

"What sort of things?"

"Anything. Are you a good cook? Do you know how to hunt or fish? How to find shelter?"

I'm a bit lost for words. "I'm quite good with a bow and arrow. I nearly always hit the bulls eye."

She sighs. "Okay. We'll talk more about this soon."

When she gets up and leaves, I see why. After the short journey, we've arrived at the capitol.


End file.
